Rebirth

Rebirth

I am stranded in my migraine

In the darkness of my room

Entombed, enwombed

Reduced to sensations

Pounded by the pulsing of my blood

Beating through my temples

Like caged wings of a bird

But I know time will

Deliver me back

To what

I am

Blossom

My Wasteland

MY WASTELAND

April is not the cruellest month.

I would welcome lilacs springing

    from my barren soil.

But the buds wither before opening,

    the earth is dry and barren,

    the drops too few and meagre.

The wells are dry, the towers crumble

    in Syria and Ukraine.

I listen for the thunder but

    no voice comes to me.

My soul lies fallow and I long

    for the fruitful years,

    in this violet hour.

19 March 2014

Birthday card

Embroidered cushion cover

untitled

Identity

IDENTITY

Two lives.

I have two lives.

Like two pebbles

dropped in a pool

side by side

their ripples flow

into each other

on one side

yet circle separately

on the other.